


blood on the bathroom floor

by oddlyqueer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Coming Out, Enjolras Has Feelings, FTM Enjolras, Gen, Good Friend Combeferre, Periods, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddlyqueer/pseuds/oddlyqueer
Summary: Enjolras was curled up on the couch with a mug of coffee and his laptop when he heard the shriek.





	blood on the bathroom floor

**Author's Note:**

> tw for a lot of blood and period talk, also mentions of drugs and syringes   
> this is Very Unedited and also Very Short

Enjolras was curled up on the couch with a mug of coffee and his laptop when he heard the shriek.

It was so loud that he practically dropped his mug, shoving his laptop over to one side and slamming his mug down on the table as he rushed over to the small apartment's bathroom, terrified by what he might see.

Combeferre stood in the doorway, clinging to the doorframe with both hands. He was staring down at a spot on the floor, a large stain spreading across the tile and filling into the gaps, staining the white floors with red.

“Why,” he said, voice breathless, “why is there blood on the bathroom floor.”

He froze. 

This morning he had been heading to the bathroom to shave— there wasn't anything to shave, really, though he had been on testosterone for nearly a year he remained tragically hirsute— when he had felt it.

It was supposed to be gone. Testosterone was meant to make it go away. He hadn't so much as thought about  _ that _ for months. And yet here he was, standing in the bathroom with his boxers stained a horrific shade of red. 

The ensuing panic attack had resulted in the aforementioned boxers being abandoned on the floor, and they were so soaked that they'd ended up staining the floor. It was disgusting, really, but he hadn't processed it at the time, and he didn't want to.

He had meant to clean it up, he had, but it had been too much to bear at that moment so he had gone out for tampons instead of cleaning up the blood and left it on the floor, and he had tried to put it out of his mind so of  _ course _ he had ended up leaving it, like an  _ idiot _ where anyone could see it—

“Alexandre,” Combeferre said, snapping him out of his panicked reverie. “Why is there blood on the floor.”

He could only manage a breathless “I'm sorry” before collapsing against the door, still barely able to breathe. The onset of…  _ that _ … had made him more dysphoric than usual, and he'd been wearing his binder more than usual lately since he'd moved into Combeferre's apartment off campus. He figured living by himself wasn't smart anymore, and money wasn't much of a worry for him at the moment since his family still hadn't deactivated his trust fund, so in with Combeferre was his best option.

Of course, living with someone he wasn't out to posed certain special problems. Such as this situation.

“Alex, you have to tell me what's wrong,” Combeferre said, a note of panic worming its way into his voice. “I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on.”

“Sorry,” he said, still trying to get a grip on his senses. “Just… just give me a second to… to catch my breath…”

“Are you— hurting yourself?” he asked hesitantly, his eyebrows furrowing in the way they always did when he was worried about someone.

“No! No,” he exclaimed, putting a hand gently on Combeferre's arm. “No. I promise, that's not it.”

“You have to understand, when I see blood in the bathroom, and you start freaking out when I discover it, then you immediately apologize, my mind goes to certain conclusions.” He helped Enjolras to a sitting position, leaning against the door frame.

“I just… I didn't want to tell you in case you got mad at me for hiding it,” he said reluctantly.

“Did you kill someone or something? Because honestly, I would be surprised, but not  _ that _ surprised—”

“No!” Enjolras shouted, shocked. “Really, Claude, I can understand you worrying about me hurting myself, but  _ murder _ ?”

“I just— why else would there be blood in the bathroom if you weren't—” Finally, his eyes fell on the box of tampons that sat, freshly opened, on the bathroom counter. “Oh.”

Enjolras buried his face in his hands. “I didn't want to tell you,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm the one who should apologize. If you felt that you couldn't tell me, it had to be for a reason. I don't know what it could be, I try very hard to project that I'm accepting and that I will defend anyone, but I must have done something at some point that made you feel uncomfortable telling me that you're trans.”

“I just… I should have told you, but… I didn't want you to hate me. I should've.” He took a deep shaky breath. “It's better that it's just blood. If you had found syringes, you probably would have thought I was doing drugs,” he said with a small laugh.

“Well, I'm glad you're not,” Combeferre replied, smiling. “Now. Let's get this cleaned up.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!!!!! as always i love and appreciate comments and kudos!!!


End file.
